


i know it's hard to grow, when you're pushed to your knees

by writingfiction



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Idk it's like 3am, Slow Burn-ish, Vignettes sorta??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfiction/pseuds/writingfiction
Summary: a brief look into the budding of eponine and enjolras' relationship. (oh how i love these two)-title from "to the sea" from seafret





	i know it's hard to grow, when you're pushed to your knees

**Author's Note:**

> i love enjonine sue me

She is a whirlwind, Enjolras discovers. Blowing her way through someone’s life and leaving all the evidence that she had been there, and she was present. She was fierce, and full of fire. This was fine for Enjolras, when they had good days, because she was a fun person to argue with. But on bad days, she was the last person he wanted to see.

He was a tidal wave, Eponine knew from the start. Building up his presence over time before it crashes into you and you are left with awe, admiration, and a small twinge of fear, or maybe complete terror. With his defined features and stark blond curls, his glittering blue eyes make Eponine melt the minute they meet. She is arrogant, though, and turns her nose at his harsh tone and the so-called lack of depth in his eyes. She didn’t care enough to look, for those first few months, but she did imagine pulling him by that stupid black skinny tie into a rough, heated makeout session after each and every debate they participated in.

He knows her past, vaguely. Marius is never a good resource for information, whether it be important or not. Enjolras knows that she grew up bouncing in and out of foster homes and that her father was rather abusive and had an addictive nature. He does not know if she displays the same traits, but the way she seems to prowl around, in velvet or skin-tight suede, he assumes that she views her body as a weapon.  
She is right.  
He also knows that she has siblings in another state, who she loves dearly. She seldom speaks of them, to anyone including Pontemercy. He only knows this information because one morning, she came to a meeting with them, deep bags under her eyes and a cup of straight espresso in her hands. She was silent, and occasionally jumping at any noise. Marius pulled the leader aside and informed him that Eponine had spent the former night traveling by bus to locate her younger sister and brother and sneak them out of a horrible foster home, and they were currently at his apartment.  
Enjolras had never seen his friend so grim, and when he looked at the girl, it was confirmed that she was under the weight of the world.

She knew that he came from money. That was an easy one, with her intuitive spirit and knack of reading people, he was definitely well-off. What she had picked up on, though, was that he had completely separated himself from his family the day he turned eighteen. He had his things that he deemed essential packed, and after saying goodbye in the most explosive way, he turned and left, never looking back. That night and many after, he slept on Combeferre’s couch, one of the boys who always offered to drive Eponine places. She knew that Enjolras was lonely, and he didn’t know how to display it in a compassionate way, because he’d never been shown that by two absent parents. This caused Eponine’s heart to break for him.

The first time they had a conversation outside of the Musian and weekly meetings, it was at a party. Courfeyac had thrown it for an excuse to have a keg and for “hot chicks” to get with him. Enjolras was sipping some alcoholic beverage with a look of intense boredom, while Eponine danced to the bass-heavy EDM song. As she waltzed over in some too-tall high heels, he quirked up his lips in an attempt of a nonchalant greeting. They were familiar — in no way were they friends. But, she smiled back and giggled, scooting closer to him. She asked some bourgeois question, which he answered with ease, and she asked for a sip of his drink. He gave her the red Solo cup and she nodded gratefully.  
He didn’t think he was going to see her for the rest of that night until he saw a man push her against a wall, sucking her face with intensity. She was resisting, he could tell, so Enjolras did what anyone would have: he pulled the man off of the girl and proceeded to instill a swift uppercut to the man’s jaw. As he fell to the floor, Enjolras was high off the adrenaline and glanced Eponine, who stared at him in drunken horror. The party resumed and Eponine fled, Enjolras dutifully following, not knowing why. Maybe it was his pride, his want for a proper “thank you”, or even an apology on his part, asking if she was okay. When he caught up to her, she angrily told him to go to hell and flipped him off, as he saw the tears rolling off her olive cheeks. He never noticed until that moment that she was so much more strong then people had ever given her credit for, himself included.

The first feelings she harbored for him, she assumed were sexual. It was after Marius and Cosette had made their relationship official, She thought he would be a good rebound. He didn’t get the message, she assumed. That was until she asked to stay late after a meeting and chat about the topic. He assumed this meant another heated debate. He desired it to be the first time that he felt her lips on his own, but he would never tell.  
Both were surprised when he made the first move, under the dim lights of the woodworked coffeehouse, with her sitting up on the table flirtatiously, as he’d been pacing back and forth. He had no intention of kissing her until he turned to see the warm glow of her skin and her deep brown eyes staring intently at him, as if to challenge him to come closer.

The first time they had sex, Eponine was amazed. She had always liked a bit of unpredictability, a bit of surprise or even suspense, but Enjolras was something new and unique. He was a completely different man when they made love, and it was exhilarating. It made Eponine feel unstoppable.

The first time he saw her cry, it was during a thunderstorm. Lightning and thunder created an unnerving feeling that Eponine could not keep caged, despite wanting to. It was the third time she had spent the night, and she didn’t mean to cry. By God, it was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of him. She thought he would dismiss it as nothing, or roll over on the other side so his back would be to her sobbing, shaking frame. What she did not expect was for him to gently wipe her tears from her cheeks, and pull her into his bare chest, his strong arms wrapping tightly around her petite body. He kissed her forehead and quietly calmed her until the tears stopped and they both felt at ease.

The first time she said she loved him was in the middle of the city. They were walking to a nearby park, to meet Courfeyac, Joly, and Bahorel for some activity they had planned (Enjolras deemed it insignificant until Eponine showed genuine interest), and her hand was intertwined with his. As she pulled him through the colorful surroundings, he smiled at her when she pouted that he wasn’t nearly half as excited as she was. When he told her that he wanted to enjoy the scenery, especially the girl next to him, in a rather sweet gesture, Eponine grew silent. Enjolras panicked, before noticing that she looked up at him with wonderment in her eyes and smiled delicately, before stopping at quietly proclaiming that she loved him.

Later, he would say it to her with reverence as they would be working together, late at night in the living room, her hair up in a messy bun and her glasses on as she stared at her computer, deep in thought and he’d nudge the raven, before tracing her jaw and whispering those three words.

The first time they fight, Enjolras sees red. Eponine feels black. They are both equal parts of torn in pieces and Eponine wants to run to him, but resists, because she wants to prive him wrong. He wants to scream and yell and hurt something, maybe a vase, maybe a lamp, but mainly himself for being such a fool.  
Days later they reconcile, and Eponine weeps. Enjolras doesn’t admit it until later, but he shed a few tears of joy when he had her back in his arms.

They are pieces of a jagged, haphazard puzzle. They work, if you turn them on the side and force them together, but mainly they have one nook that fits just right. They both take time, and patience. These incredibly complex beings are meant for each other, but prodding and pushing can tear them in the opposite direction, both know.  
They are both equally glad it didn’t happen to them, because they know in their hearts that they are meant to be.


End file.
